


can't see the forest for the trees

by miriad



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Death, Car Accident, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Snow, everyone human is fine, they hit some deer, tony stark is a lot nicer than he pretends to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miriad/pseuds/miriad
Summary: "I've got a plan," Buck said about point four seconds later, short enough for Steve to know that he'd been thinking about it the whole time he'd been staring at Steve. How he'd been a spy, Steve would never know."Oh, yeah?" Steve asked, not sure he wanted to know what kind of crazy idea Buck had come up with, having been the focus of a number of other Bucky plans over the course of their friendship and sometimes he'd ended up with ripped shirts and needing to say a few Hail Mary's. Other times, he'd ended up with a bloody nose and an asthma attack due to needing to run for his life."What if you tell her you're dating someone already, you know? Like, secretly. Quietly."





	can't see the forest for the trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [debwalsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/gifts).



> This was written for Deb Walsh as part of the DC/Marvel Bingo Exchange, and this fulfills two squares, and maybe a third if you squint, that Deb asked for:
> 
> Fake/pretend relationship  
> Snowflake  
> Snowed in
> 
> Deb, I hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for and I hope you have the happiest of holidays!
> 
> As a warning, part of this story involves a car accident where a few deer are hit. I don't go into details about the deer, and Steve and Bucky aren't hurt, but it may be upsetting to some people. I've tagged for it, but if anyone thinks I need additional tagging, please let me know.

His phone chimed again, the third time in five minutes. Steve ignored it, kept sketching in his notebook, pretending not to have heard. Bucky looked up from his book when the fourth text came through, and coughed loudly when the fifth chimed in. Steve sighed and leaned back against the couch, dropping his pencil on the coffee table, rubbing a hand across his face.

"She wants me to go out with her friend, Buck. I just... don't want to." Steve grimaced at just the thought of a blind date, thinking back on all those double dates he'd been forced to suffer through with Bucky, and at least Bucky had been there with him to make it less horrific. Bucky slid his bookmark into place and set the book down on his lap, looking at Steve with a thoughtful expression. Steve wasn't sure he liked that. He was pretty sure that expression was part of how he got in so much trouble as a young kid.

"Natasha works best with data. Actual facts. This touchy-feely bullshit isn't going to play with her."

"What are you saying, then? I should tell her, what, exactly?"

"Well, for starters, you should tell her the truth. She's your friend, right? You need to tell her that you aren't interested and why. Really why."

"Yes," Steve said, with a sigh, dread rising in his chest. He knew the truth about why he didn't want to date Natasha's friend and it wasn't that he didn't think she was cute or wasn't interested in her opinions on art or whatever. She was a fine girl- lady, whatever- but that was just it. She was a LADY. Steve was not... into ladies. And he hadn't been since he'd realized that he liked someone other than his mother, so roughly 1932.

"So, tell her. Tell her you like someone else. Because that's it, right? Someone else?" Steve's head snapped up and he looked at Bucky's face in horror, sure that Bucky had figured out his secret and was about to both give him the most shit he'd ever given Steve, and that was saying a lot, and about to break his heart. Because there was no way that Bucky could possibly return Steve's feelings. No way at all. 

"I'm not sure that's it, really," Steve started slowly, keeping his eyes on Bucky's face. He knew that he was a shit liar. He knew that Buck knew he was a shit liar. He knew that if he tried to pull a fast one on Bucky that Bucky would KNOW that he was lying and would dig even harder to find out the truth. His best option at this point would be to find a lie that was as close to the truth as possible and stick to it. That was really the only way he could see possibly surviving this with his heart intact. But he'd have to come up with just the right lie, and that would be the tricky bit. He started thinking about what would work and while he did, Bucky kept going with his attempt to marry off Steve to the next woman to come around the corner. It was frustratingly like 1940 all over again.

"If it's not a specific someone, and it's not that the girl isn't cute- trust me, she is, I've seen her- and she's not dumb either, and I think she's a professional athlete so I'm guessing she can dance and would like to go running-"

Steve couldn't take it. He couldn't take Bucky trying to help Natasha set him up with some girl that he was sure was nice but just wasn't the person he wanted to be with. He wanted to be with BUCKY for fuck's sake, and if he couldn't have that, then he wasn't sure he wanted to be with anyone. And he certainly didn't want to be with a woman, if he could help it, God rest Peggy's soul.

And there it was, the thing he'd have to do, the grenade he'd have to jump on. 

"That's just it, Buck. I'm sure she's a nice lady. But, you know," He stopped, trying to get the words out of his mouth, his tongue getting dry, his hand rubbing against the back of his neck, trying to work out the kinks that seemed to have found a permanent place there. "I don't actually like girls?" It came out like a question and he held his breath for a moment as Bucky's face went still and he froze in place as he tried to process what Steve had said.

"Wait, what? You don't like girls? That's bullshit. You liked Peggy Carter just fine, that much I know." There was a breathless edge to Bucky's voice, something desperate that Steve just didn't have the ability to deal with at the moment, not when his own world was crushing under the weight of brutal fucking honesty.

Peggy was the one caveat to a lifetime of ignoring the fairer sex and all they had to offer. There had just been something about Peggy that had appealed to Steve, that he'd tried to figure out in the time since he'd been defrosted, and the best he could come up with was she had enough similarities to Bucky, and he was enough bisexual, that she'd pinged his buttons and hard. He'd allowed himself the daydream of a life with her and had even spent some time kissing with her where the other Howlies couldn't see, Bucky included. 

He'd had a dream, a fantasy really, where it was the three of them together: Steve, Peggy and Bucky, together til the end. But he didn't think Peggy was the sharing kind and before he could even broach the subject with her or Bucky, Bucky'd fallen off the train, and Steve'd flown the Valkyrie into the ice. He'd never know what she'd really have thought, and it didn't do any good to ask Bucky now, when he had an unreliable memory and Peggy was just an unattainable hypothetical question they'd never had a real answer for.

But, in the end, Bucky was still the one and only one he wanted to grow old with, the only one he'd ever have the possibility to do that with. Time had given Steve a second chance, and he wasn't going to mess it up by letting Bucky know he'd had a hard-on for him since 1935. That would be... unfortunate, to say the least. But he could at least admit that he preferred men over women, even if he'd never actually had sex with either (not that he would be admitting that to Bucky, either).

"I loved Peggy. It's called being bisexual, although I'm not sure how much of that I actually am, seeing as Peggy was pretty much the only woman I've ever really had any kind of feelings for, of any kind, beyond motherly or sisterly."

"Even Natasha." Bucky gave him a steady look, eyes shark-like in their beadiness.

"Even Natasha," Steve agreed, nodding his head.

"So, what, you want to date a dude?"

"Yeah," Steve said, a little relief letting the pressure in his chest slip away.

"Why don't you just tell her that?"

"I don't want to get set up, Buck! Period! I just want to be myself and figure myself out, and if I decide that I want to date someone, I want to meet them on my own terms. I don't like being pushed into things, and I don't like being shoehorned into a date with someone who I can't vet myself beforehand."

Bucky just continued to look at him, his face blank of any emotion. It was one of the things that he'd known how to do before he was trained to be assassin. Steve assumed it was something a person learned when that person had three little sisters and a mother who could have played linebacker for the Greenbay Packers. 

Steve kept his gaze and did his best not to crack, although he could feel it coming in the bottom of his feet, through his legs and into his stomach, chest, and arms. It was a feeling of defeat, of giving up the ghost because there wasn't any point. It was the feeling he'd always felt when facing off against his mother, trying to pull one over on her. He'd always lost, and he was feeling the way he'd always felt then.

"You really don't want to go out on a date, do you?" Bucky finally asked, his face softening into something Steve recognized as his childhood friend, despite the manbun (which, it was a stupid name but Bucky made it work, and it gave Steve the kind of butterflies in his stomach that let him know that nothing had changed in those seventy years they'd been apart).

"No," Steve said in total honesty. "I really, really don't."

"I've got a plan," Buck said about point four seconds later, short enough for Steve to know that he'd been thinking about it the whole time he'd been staring at Steve. How he'd been a spy, Steve would never know.

"Oh, yeah?" Steve asked, not sure he wanted to know what kind of crazy idea Buck had come up with, having been the focus of a number of other Bucky plans over the course of their friendship and sometimes he'd ended up with ripped shirts and needing to say a few Hail Mary's. Other times, he'd ended up with a bloody nose and an asthma attack due to needing to run for his life.

"What if you tell her you're dating someone already, you know? Like, secretly. Quietly."

"Like, who? She's check out anyone I gave her the name of, and she'd figure it out."

"Oh, not this one, friend."

"Just spill it and stop acting like an ass."

"Me, dipshit. You tell her you're dating me." Steve couldn't say anything, his breath stuck in his chest like Bucky's just punched him with that metal arm of his.

"I don't-"

"See, we've been dating since we were kids, and of course, we couldn't SAY anything about it, on account of the times and all, and then I lost my memory, and you, being YOU, wouldn't just TELL me that we were dating, on account of you not wanting to make me do something I wouldn't want to do, so you've been silently, secretly pining all this time, until, low and behold, my memories come back, and we have this heartfelt and beautiful reunion. In private. And then continue our secret love affair."

"Jesus. CHRIST." Steve wanted to puke because it was like Bucky had taken the entire thing from his fantasies and put it into words. It was terrifying and wonderful all at the same time.

"Naw, we just have the same haircut." Bucky was grinning now, a butter won't melt in my mouth but I still stole it kind of grin, and Steve couldn't help himself. He had to smile back. 

"That could work."

"Of course is could work! I came up with it. Now, you just have to tell Natasha."

"Fuck."

"Better you than me, pal." Bucky gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder and whistled as he headed back to the kitchen. Steve stared at his phone like it was a rattle snake about to bite him, trying to plan out his text so he'd didn't inadvertently say something either stupid, incriminating, or both.  Natasha was going to murder him. Slowly. But he was pretty sure she'd stop with the matchmaking, so it would be worth it.

*  
Natasha had believe him. She'd actually been a lot easier to convince than Steve had expected, which was disconcerting and frankly, made him sure there was a trap there, somewhere, and he just hadn't worked it out yet.

He was right, he just didn't realize the timing.

Natasha had planned a couple's weekend, up in a cabin in Vermont. It was supposed to be a cozy little getaway for her and Clint, and Steve and his date. Who now would apparently be Bucky. Natasha and Clint had plans to meet them at the cabin after their mission was over, which could mean they would already be there when Steve and Bucky arrived, or they might not show up at all, in which case, Steve and Bucky would have the place to themselves. 

Either way, they had planned for separate modes of transport just in case. Steve was driving one of Tony's SUV's, mostly because there was snow and four-wheel drive was the greatest vehicle invention Steve could think of.  They'd made it to Vermont, they'd made it to roughly the mountain where they'd be staying, and now all they had to do was drive up the mountain and find said cabin. 

At night. In the snow. 

"I can't believe you let her push you into this." Bucky was not annoyed about a cabin in Vermont, per se. He was annoyed they would have to share it with Clint. And Natasha. And pretend to be dating, which Steve wasn't sure what that would look like in what he was assuming would be close quarters.

"What do you mean, you can't believe *I* let her? You were the genius to come up with this plan? She called our bluff. We either admit we were bluffing or we do this stupid couples weekend."

"Steve. Even if we were dating. Which we aren't. We wouldn't be 'couples weekend' people. That's just not..." 

"I don't know. I think fireplaces are pretty great."

"You would."

"What the hell is THAT supposed to-"

"Steve, look out!"

The group of deer had darted across the snowy road while they'd been fighting and there was no way to avoid them at this rate. Steve tried to use all the aggressive driving techniques he'd ever learned, both as a Howlie and as a driver in New York City. The car fishtailed in the snow and the ice, and he missed the first two deer, who dashed away from them, eyes wide, but there was a cluster of three that had frozen in fear in the middle of the road, and once Steve lost control of the spin, there wasn't any way for him to avoid them. 

The car slammed into the deer, going even faster in a skid then it had been traveling down the road, and plowed through them, knocking them to the side like bowling pins. One of the deer slid up the hood of the car and crashed in to the windshield, shattering the glass with it's antlers. The car spun a few more times and finished it's slide by going over the edge of the road, into the ditch, only stopping when the side door impacted with a tree.

The air bags deployed, punching both Steve and Bucky in the face, and man, it did feel like a punch.

It took a minute or two to find himself again, and then another few minutes to push the now deflating air bag away from his face and back against the dashboard, but Steve's arms were still working and his neck was still functionally able to turn his head, so he was thinking that at this point, he wasn't totally fucked.

"Son of a bitch!" Bucky gasped out, blood dripping from his nose and his lower lip, where he'd bit through it at some point. He grasped the air bag in his left hand, having popped it when he'd grabbed it with the cybernetic arm, and then had ripped it away from the dash, a subconscious attempt to stop an attack on his person, Steve supposed.

"You okay, Buck?" Steve wheezed, only now starting to feel the impact the steering wheel'd had on his chest, giving it a bruised feeling similar to after he'd had asthma attacks back in the day.

"Been better," Bucky said, his teeth reddening as blood from in injury inside of his mouth began to spread. "But been far worse, so, you know, perspective."

"That doesn't help me figure out how much trouble we're in, Buck," Steve said, exasperated that he couldn't get a straight answer but it was Bucky's MO so at least the impact hadn't knocked him back into Winter Soldier mode or anything. Small blessings but Steve would take them. "We're probably gonna have to walk somewhere for help and maybe shelter for the night. You think you're gonna be able to do that."

Bucky turned his head slowly, meeting Steve's eyes with a dead stare of frustration and barely held anger.

"I've walked on a broken leg for five miles, carrying two military packs and my own rifle, with a punctured lung, in Siberia. If I can't walk to wherever we need to go tonight in the state I'm in, you should just shoot me and leave me behind."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Bucky," Steve said, sighing. "Do you have a broken leg and a punctured lung right now?"

To his credit, Bucky took a moment to take stock of himself, and Steve could see Bucky making little movements to to some self-assessments of various body parts that would have been slammed around in the their accident. After a few minutes, Bucky shrugged.

"Nothing serious seems to be broken. Lungs seem to be fine. I mean, we'll know in a few hours, but, yeah." He shrugged and wiped away a new trickle of blood from his nose with the back of his hand, then wiped his hand on the air bag. "You haven't said anything about you, Rogers. And we both know that between the two of us, one of us is way worse about not telling the other about being hurt."

"We are not going to play this game, right now."

"Game?"

"Okay fight. We are not going to have this fight right now."

"You always say that when I'm right!"

"Oh, fuck off, Barnes." Steve pushed the air bag away from himself, and tried opening the driver's side door. The door unlatched on the first try but didn't open, the frame bent enough that it wasn't going to open without more effort. Well, Steve had more effort in his pinkie finger. He pulled back with his left arm, as best he could in the space allowed, and punched the door, putting all the frustration he had at and with the situation into the force of his fist, and hit the door as close to the lock mechanism as he could manage in the cramped space.

The door groaned and creaked as it flew off the side of the car, landing a good ten feet away, in the snow on the road. The wind cut into the car, bringing snowflakes with it, swirling in little eddies, turning Steve and Bucky's breath into little puffs of steam in front of their faces almost instantly.

"That seems excessive," Bucky said. Steve could see him rolling his eyes but Steve pretended not to notice as he focused on undoing the seat belt and making sure the steering wheel and front dash hadn't pushed so far forward that he couldn't extract himself.

Once he'd pulled his torso out of the car and was able to get his legs out from under the dash, he could feel that he'd taken some damage but it wasn't enough to keep him from walking, at least far enough to get help and let someone know what had happened. He put his booted feet on the ground and stood, leaning against the car for a minute, trying to see if there was any give in their current position and if they needed to be worried about the car shifting while Bucky was still in it.

It was firmly pressed into the tree and wasn't going anywhere, even to get pulled away from the tree to let Bucky climb out on his side of the car. Bucky would have to climb across the driver's side and out Steve's door.

Which apparently he'd already determined on his own, because as Steve leaned down to ask him if he'd need any help, he almost smacked foreheads with Bucky, who was already free of his own seat belt and was halfway through Steve's door. Steve pulled back, almost falling on his ass, and Bucky gave him an exasperated eye roll as he planted his left arm on the ground and pulled the rest of his body out of the car in a move that wouldn't have been out of place in an Olympic gymnastics routine.

They'd both dressed warmly for the trip, although their coats and other winter wear were in the trunk.

"I'll get the coats," Bucky said, reading his mind. "Do you know if we have any cell signal up here?"

Steve could have kicked himself. He'd forgotten his cellphone in all the craziness of the accident and leaned back into the vehicle to see if he could find it on the floor. It had been in the cup holder while they'd been driving but had fallen out in the accident, although where it ended up, he couldn't be sure. It wasn't on the floor on either his or Bucky's side of the car, and it hadn't ended up on the dash. He tried looking in the back and under the seats, and nothing.

"Doesn't matter if we have signal or not. Can't find the phone. Not sure if it fell out of the car, or what." Steve ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't supposed you brought one of your burner phones with you, by chance?"

"Nope." Bucky handed Steve his coat, his scarf hanging from the pocket.

"Great," Steve said, shrugging on his coat and zipping it up. He started winding the scarf around his neck. "This is perfect."

"I don't know," Bucky said, not looking at Steve as he put on his own coat. "Could be worse. We could be alone in the snow. Without each other, I mean."

Steve felt a pang in his chest that didn't have anything to do with any impact injuries. He had to take a few deep, steadying breaths before he could say anything back, knowing that his voice wouldn't be steady and that his emotions would be laid out and open for Bucky to see them, filters off. 

He took a step towards Bucky, not sure what he wanted, really, but knew that he just needed to be closer to him. Bucky'd pulled on both of his gloves, despite not needing one on his left hand, and Steve looked up at Bucky's face, trying to see if everything was alright. Before he could say anything, he had to stop a second and just breathe. Snow had continued to fall and as they'd stood outside, flakes had collected in Bucky's hair and in his eyelashes, framing his face in an almost lacy, delicate haze. Bucky's eyes, a blue gray that Steve hadn't really understood what the color really was until after he'd had the serum and his colorblindness was "cured" but had immediately fallen in love with in those first moments at Azzano, looked larger and more delicate in the snow.

"We're not alone. Either of us."

"I know," Bucky said, trying to sound light and only moderately succeeding. He looked at Steve, meeting his eyes for just a brief second, then looking back to the car, to the road, to the trees, anywhere that wasn't Steve. His eyelashes sparkled, Steve noted, old snowflakes melting, new ones perching on the drops of melted snow. It almost looked liked he'd been crying, but Steve knew what that looked like, was painfully aware what that looked like, and this wasn't it.

This was beautiful.

"Which way should we head, do you think?" Bucky asked him, looking in the direction they'd been heading. Steve had to take a minute to reorient himself back into the moment, into the conversation and their immediate need for safety.

"I think we're closer to the cabin then we are to anything we've passed already. Maybe there'll be another cabin or house along the way, and we can stop and give Natasha a call." He shouldered his pack, thankful for packing light, and pulled Bucky's out of the trunk as well. He held it out to Bucky, who grabbed it with his left hand and looked at it, head tilted like he was contemplating the nature of the pack and it's existence in the universe. Steve just wanted him to put it on his back so they could get the hell out of there. 

He didn't say that, though, understanding that in an emergency (and this was technically that, even if it wasn't the same scale as most emergencies they'd had to deal with over the past year) you didn't want to poke the bear of uncomfortable conversations or try to force people to discuss anything that might make them more upset or less able to cope in that moment. It was a good excuse to avoid and Steve was going to take it.

"Do you have any of that Stark tech on you, by chance? Any kind of secret decoder ring or secret beacon we can use to get Stark or one of his flunkys out here with a quinjet? 'Cause I fucking hate the cold." He looked at Steve now, finally for a significant period of time and Steve could see the tenseness around his eyes, the way his mouth had tightened at the edges, despite the split lip, meaning that it was still bleeding, even sluggishly, his advanced healing no match for nervous teeth worrying a wound open.

"I left all that at home, for the sole purpose of avoiding have Tony come crashing in on us."

"Steve. In the future, if we do anything stupid, like leave Brooklyn, we have to talk about what you consider necessities." With that, Bucky started the climb up the side of the ditch and onto the road.  

Steve followed him, wincing a bit as he put more weight on his right knee but felt confident enough to keep going and to not say anything about it to Bucky. What would be the point? There wasn't anything either of them could do about it, so Steve just walked on. He'd walked off worse and lived to tell the tale, this certainly wouldn't be any different.

*  
They'd been walking for about two hours, in silence except for the sound of snow falling and the wind through naked trees. It hadn't been uncomfortable, per se, but it hadn't been a fun stroll through Central Park either. Bucky was keeping a swift pace and Steve was keeping up, despite his knee aching more with each step he took. He still hadn't said anything to Bucky about it, because there still wasn't a point. But he was tired of not talking, especially since this was supposed to be a fun weekend where they were having a good time, together, fake boyfriends or not.

"Think any harder over there, you'll have smoke coming out of your ears," Bucky said, breaking the silence. It was fond but gruff, what Bucky's communication had been over the past few months, and Steve smiled at the familiarity of it. 

"I was thinking," Steve started.

"Got that much," Bucky jabbed, a genuine smile crossing his face.

"Hardy har har, Buck." Steve sped up a bit, to get within grabbing reach and tried to poke Bucky in the side, the goal being gently, but enough to get his point across. Bucky dodged to the side with a little skip and short chuckle, and then he was back to the march.

"This reminds me of France," Steve finally said, looking at the back of Bucky's head. Bucky stiffened for a brief moment and then he looked down at the ground.

"Oh, yeah?" Bucky said. "Which part?"

"You mean the walking doesn't remind you of all the walking? And the snow?"

"It all blends together." Bucky started walking faster, and Steve frowned, not sure what about France was upsetting because clearly, something was.

"Buck, come on, I didn't mean to-"

"I don't remember France."

"What?"

"I don't remember. I can remember flashes of things. Of the Howlies. Of Carter. Other places. But. There's a lot of time that I just don't... know anymore. So, yeah, there you go."

"I didn't realize that was part of the, the stuff you were still struggling with." Steve sped up, grunting as he hit a hard stride on his right leg, and caught up. "It's not a problem, I guess, outside of you wanting to remember it. I just... wanted to share the memory."

"I know," Bucky said, voice quiet in the night. Their steps crunched and squeaked in the fresh snow as they kept climbing up the winding road. Steve bumped Bucky's left shoulder with his right and kept pace with him, and didn't say anything else.

*

Another hour passed before they saw signs of human life beyond their own. A street light, the first they'd seen in miles, hung off a telephone pole along the side of the road and connected to the lower half of the pole was a box with a blue glowing light. 

An emergency call box. Thank Christ.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, neither saying a word, and they sped up the pace, heading directly for the box. Steve pulled off his right glove, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, reaching for the little card Sam had made for him with a list of everyone's contact information, as a just in case. Steve was notorious for breaking cellphones, or losing them, as the night's accident had proven yet again, and keeping his contact list on a phone was just asking for trouble.

"Is it crazy to wonder if this is all some kind of cold induced mirage?," Bucky asked, trying not to sound hopeful but failing.

"No," Steve said, as he reached out to lift the receiver from the cradle. "Not crazy, but what would it hurt to keep trying to survive, mirage or not?"

"Uh, Steve, it could hurt us. That's what it would hurt."

Steve made a face at him as he rested the receiver on his shoulder and let out an audible sigh of relief as he heard a dial tone on the line. He dialed Natasha's cell first, and it rang and rang, not even going to voice mail. He hung up the phone and tried calling Clint's number, and that just got him a message about the phone number being disconnected. So, the best he could figure was that they were still out on their mission. Great.

Steve hung up the phone and looked at the list, trying to determine who on it could actually help them before they turned back into popsicles. There was only one name outside of Natasha that fit that description. Steve had to take a deep breath before he could even pick the phone back up out of the cradle.

He looked at Bucky and gave him a thumb's up he didn't really feel, then looked down at the contact card and started dialing. It rang twice, and then someone picked up.

"I don't know who gave you this number, but it'll be changed before morning, so don't get any ideas-"

"Tony, it's Steve."

"Oh, sure. Steve. Right. Wait. Steve?"

"Yeah, Tony. I'm calling from an emergency call box on the road up to some cabin Natasha rented for me and Bucky, and-"

"Oh, yes, the secret boyfriend. Which I'm calling bullshit on, by the way, but whatever, you got a sweet vacay out of it so bully on you."

"Tony. Focus. We hit some deer. We crashed the car-"

"Some deer? Like, more than one? And you crashed my car? Are you okay? Is it okay?"

"That detail is besides the point. We're cold, we're a little beat up, but not too bad, and we just need to-"

"You're admitting to being beat up? How bad is it? Is Tall, Dark and Murderous okay or is he bleeding all over the snow, too? Oh, god, did he lose another limb? Did you lose a limb?"

"We just need a ride. Can you come get us? Please?" Steve stopped talking and waiting for the flood of words but there was just silence. He could hear Tony breathing on the other end of the line but that was about it. "Tony?"

"Yeah, Steve. I can come get you. Jarvis, track down where the call is coming from, the exact location, and get the quinjet ready to head out. We'll be there as soon as we can." The call ended and then it was dial tone in his ear, a refreshing change from the nothingness that happened when a cell call ended. Steve looked at the hand set and then hung it back up, turning to look at Bucky.

"Tony's coming. We just have to wait."

"I'm real sorry, Steve." Bucky said, looking intently at Steve's face, his eyes imploring Steve to do... something, Steve wasn't quite sure of yet.

"For what, Buck? You didn't flush those deer out in front of us. I don't know-"

"For asking you to lie. To your friend. To your friends." Bucky stepped closer, still intent on Steve's face.

"They're your friends, too."

"Not the point, Steve. The point is, I wanted to help but I didn't want to make you do something you didn't want to do, and now you're in a spot with your pals. And that's on me, and that's not fair."

Steve stepped forward, too, getting close enough to Bucky that he could feel the heat pouring off Bucky's body from the exertion of the walk they'd been on, and his body combating the cold and the snow.

"Who said I didn't want to do it? I wanted Natasha to stop asking me to date other people. You offered to help. You offered to date me."

"Fake date you."

"Who said it was fake dating?" With that, Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips against Bucky's. They were both cold and Bucky tasted a little like blood, but Steve couldn't have cared less. He pressed forward again, opening his mouth, flicking out with his tongue, waiting for Bucky to get with the program. 

It took about twenty seconds and then Bucky's hands were on his head, holding his face steady and Bucky was kissing him like Steve had seen Buck kiss his girlfriends all those years before. They broke apart after a minute, both gasping for breath, breathing the same air and so very thankful for it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Bucky whispered.

"About what," Steve breathed against Bucky's lips, his brain starting to go offline as his dick was starting to wake up and decide to join the party.

"That you actually wanted to date me? I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, Rogers, I've-" He stopped and looked away, despite still holding on to Steve's face with both hands.

"You've what, Buck?" There was something there, Steve could tell, and he knew that if he just let Bucky get there on his own, he'd get the real deal out of him. He just had to be patient. 

This was going to kill him, he already knew it.

Bucky looked back at him, eyes wide and frankly a bit scared, and he leaned forward again so their foreheads were touching. Steve couldn't help but lean into the touch, his body craving it, wanting to know the real deal after only a few days of their play acting. 

"I've wanted to be your best guy since 1930. Of all the things I've forgotten, of all the holes I still have in my brain, there's a few things I know for sure and that's one of them."

"Well, shit, Buck. Wish you would have said something. I've wanted to be your best guy since 1935. 'Bout time was did something about it, I guess."

They went back to kissing, snow falling on them, melting, making their faces damp messes, a mixture of snow and blood and tears and that neither of them would ever admit to crying, at least not to anyone outside of themselves.

That's how Tony Stark found them when he landed in the quinjet and opened the hatch to let down the stairs, wearing an oil stained jeans and a threadbare AC/DC t-shirt. He seemed both weirdly shocked and not shocked to see Steve and Bucky making out, in the snow, by the emergency telephone.

"Well, I'm here. And you're here. Face fucking. Great. I didn't pack the lube, sorry, so no actual fucking while I'm flying, okay? Okay, thanks for agreeing." He waived them onto the plane, and headed back to the cockpit, leaving them standing in the snow, lips red and well practiced.

"We don't have to tell them that this was ever anything but a real relationship, right?" Steve asked out of the corner of his mouth. Bucky grinned against Steve's lips and shook his head.

"They don't need to know a goddamn thing."

"I love you, you know," Steve said, making sure he was looking Bucky in the eye when he said it. He squeezed Bucky's hand, just waiting. He didn't need Bucky to actually say the words back to him to know that Bucky loved him, but he always wanted to give him the space. It had always been that way, in his dreams, and he'd give Bucky the same chance, now that he was having it in reality, too.

"I loved you then, and I love you now. May not quite be the same, but it's love." Bucky grinned, his lip cracking open again, fresh blood welling up. 

Steve didn't say anything, just kissed him and reminded himself that the taste of blood was a sign that Bucky had survived all those awful things, and was here with Steve now. And they loved each other. 

"You guys! Seriously! I was working! Can we go now?" Tony's voice bellowed from a speaker on the quinjet, boosted in part by Jarvis, Steve was sure. Bucky rolled his eyes, then winked at Steve, who just kissed him again.

"Just remember, Natasha learns nothing of this, and we both live to see another day," Steve muttered.

"Oh, I would live, regardless. I have moves. You, on the other hand. Well, the funeral would be nice, the spread at the wake catered by a lovely company, I'm sure." Steve pushed Bucky away, and then linked arms with him. As they walked to the quinjet, he lifted his face up to the sky, to let the snow press against his cheeks, and melt away.


End file.
